Disclaimer: No! No! I won't do it! I own the Rangers. They're mine! Mine, I tell you! What? What do you mean I don't? I paid that guy ten whole bucks for them! Really? I don't own them? Awwwwwww…..I want my money back!

You can read the first two hundred stories in "When Rangers Meet," "More of When Rangers Meet," "Headquarters Where Rangers Meet," and "Those Rangers Just Keep on Meeting."

This is story number twenty-nine.

Reviews are greatly appreciated. Honest, they are.

Blake and Flynn

By

Eileen (Psycho Tangerine)

"Real funny, guys!" snapped Blake over his shoulder as he angrily walked his motorbike away from the racetrack. "I'll have you know I do not need training wheels on my bike!" Ever since he had joined Factory Blue, he had become the butt of the jokes. It might have been because of his short stature. It might have been because he had yet to win a race. It might have been because they had been expecting a tall blond guy and were not happy that Blake had submitted Hunter's bio and photo when applying for the spot.

"I'll show those jerks," Blake mumbled as he strode through the series of stands set up for the big upcoming race. "I'll get stronger and faster and beat them. But how?"

"Hello there, Laddie," called an accented voice. "Can I interest you in one of my radish-mango-celery smoothies? It'll put a foot onto your height."

"How?" asked Blake as he looked at the teenager who had just called to him. "How does drinking something disgusting make me taller? Is the stuff going to settle onto the bottom of my soles and become permanent elevator shoes for me?"

"I'm just trying to help, Laddie. I just heard you saying you wanted to get stronger. No need to bite my head off," replied Flynn. "Besides," he continued with a sigh, "No one's stopped by all day to buy a smoothie. Who wouldn't want a nice healthy cranberry-garlic-guava smoothie?"

"Anyone with taste?" asked Blake as the younger man began tasting one of the drinks he was blending. "Besides, who in their right mind would buy a drink from a place called McCallistar's Smoothies…"

"Pfffffffffffffftttttttt!" Flynn spat a mouthful of liquid out. "Dad! How many times do I have to tell you to keep your motor oil away from my smoothie ingredients?"

"…and Oil Changes?" finished Blake. "Ewwwww…you owe me a new shirt." He tore off his dark blue t-shirt and tossed it aside.

"Well," said Flynn. "I don't sell shirts. But how about a spinach-lime-horseradish smoothie? It'll help you grow muscles on that scrawny little body of yours."

"Huh?" asked Blake as he looked down at his own well-muscled physique. "No! How could I have skipped that training session last month? I'm just a shrimp! A weakling!" He dropped to the ground in tears. "Now I'll never prove myself to be better than that jerk brother of mine! I'll never get Cam to stop spamming me with email about different body building products! I'll never get that cute Marah away from her airhead of a boyfriend!"

"Now, now, Laddie." The fifteen year old stepped out of the stand and walked to the sobbing man. "I didn't mean anything by that." He grimaced as Blake began howling loudly. "Aren't you overreacting a bit much?" he asked as he stepped closer with his hands clamped over his ears.

"Waaaaahaaaaaaaaahaaaaaaa!"

"You're scaring all my customers away!" Flynn cried desperately. "Worse than that, you're scaring my dad's customers away! You've never seen him when he's angry!" Flynn shivered at the thought of his last punishment of having to stand in front of the house wearing nothing but a tire and playing the bagpipes.

But Blake just howled and wailed even louder.

"All right! I'm sorry!" Flynn stepped even closer to the older man. "I'll do anything! Just stop making that rack…eeeeeppp!" he yelped as he was knocked down on his butt.

"Call me scrawny, will you?" taunted Blake who had secretly summoned his Thunder Blade. "No one calls me that and gets away with it!"

"Ach! That hurts, Laddie!" complained Flynn as he got up. "I'm telling my dad! You don't want to know what he can do with a wrench when angered."

Blake swept his Thunder Blade under Flynn's feet and knocked the younger boy down again. "And stop calling me Laddie! I'm older than you!" He looked down at Flynn. "Is your dad a mechanic then? Maybe he could help me get more power into my bike."

"Aye, that he is, best mechanic around," bragged Flynn as he led Blake to the garage section. "He never stops working; he just works day and night. Sure, he misses dinner on occasion. And he missed all of my little league games. And he missed my eighth grade graduation. And he missed posting bail that time I tried to help the police and accidentally handcuffed the chief to his steering wheel. But he's really dedicated to his work."

"Really?" asked Blake. "So why is there a note on the door saying 'gone curling?' is your dad a beautician as well?"

"Aach, I keep telling him we're not in Scotland anymore," moaned Flynn. "Well, I guess you're out of luck."

"Too bad," said Blake. "I was willing to spend top dollar if needed." He would do anything to get the trophy. Blake could just picture Tori begging him to take her back. Well, there's no way he would. Not after she had told him that his blue was the ugly blue that nobody could love.

"Really?" asked Flynn. "Well then," he grabbed a mechanic's hat and placed it on his head. "Let me have a go at it. I know a thing or two about motorbikes."

"You're a mechanic also?" asked Blake doubtfully. "Aren't you a bit young?"

"I've been around my dad at his garage since I was a wee bairn. I've helped him fix stuff." And I need the money to expand my smoothie shop, he thought. He would do anything to outsell that obese guy at the other end of the fairgrounds who had a combination smoothie-gym stall. Flynn was already having difficulty outdoing his 'Smoothie Maker of the Original Power Rangers' sign.

"Are you sure?" asked Blake. He then noticed the Baby on Board sticker on of his teammates had slapped on the bike. "Make it so fast that those assholes end up choking on my dust!"

"Aye!" replied Flynn. He then began to fool around with the motor. Parts were flying out and tools were clanging.

"Don't I need those parts?" asked Blake who was already beginning to regret his decision. "Wait, why are you putting that alarm clock in there? And what is that Slinky for?"

Flynn looked up with a frown. "I really can't concentrate with all that yapping. Perhaps you'd better wait outside." He waved Blake away with his hand.

"This thing had better go faster or else!" threatened Blake as he stepped outside. He grimaced every time he heard a bang or clank.

"All done!" called Flynn a half-hour later.

"Great!" said Blake as he came back into the garage. He grabbed his motorbike helmet and put it on. "Time to test it out."

"Hey! Where's my money?" asked Flynn. "You said you'd pay top dollar."

"Yeah, for a top mechanic." Blake pulled a ten dollar bill out of his pocket. "Here," he said as he tossed it at the teenager.

"But, that's not…"

"Don't spend it all in one place!" Blake jumped on the gas pedal…and the motorbike shot backwards and crashed through the garage wall. "Aaaaaaaaahhhhh! You numbskull!" cried Blake as the bike sped away with him on it.

"Heh, you never said in which direction you wanted to go, Laddie!" Flynn shouted after the other man. "No one calls my smoothies disgusting and gets away…Dad! You're back early! No, I don't know how that wall got a hole in it. Termites, maybe? No, Dad, please don't make me wear that tire again! Not the bagpipes! No, Dad, noooooooooooooo!"

A/N Three in a row. Whoohoo! Yeah, I'm on Spring Break. Please review, thanks.